


Lost in Translation

by RoboticNebula



Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: Durzagh, M/M, Tharkay deals with his feelings, Tharkay saves the day, Travelling Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 14:59:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18672016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoboticNebula/pseuds/RoboticNebula
Summary: Tharkay learns to speak Durzagh. It somehow leads to a series of realisations.





	Lost in Translation

Tharkay was willing to admit that things had gotten out of hand.

It took him five days to shake off his pursuant. When he noticed the French had sent an assassin after the message he unfortunately happened to be carrying, he had thought of losing him in the mountains. That had been his first mistake. He quickly realised that the other man was far more knowledgeable of these parts than he was, and focused as he had been on trying to escape, he hadn’t paid proper attention to where he was going. A mistake, a terrible, potentially fatal mistake that he deeply regretted now. When, at last, Tharkay had managed to lose him, he had been herded too far north and found himself in unfamiliar surroundings.

The sky was a dull grey and the sun slowly sinking below the clouds. Tharkay estimated he had less than an hour before complete darkness at which point finding his way back would be impossible. And at this height, a single misstep was a plunge to your death. Already, he could barely see where was going and after stumbling for the third time, he resolved there was no point in wandering around. He resigned himself to wait for the next morning, ducked in a small crevasse and trying to make himself a small as possible to stay out of sight. He tried distracting himself from the biting cold by reviewing his situation. He was alive, for now at least, and the confidential letter was still in his possession. He would probably be late, which would be taken from his pay. He was angry. At himself, mostly. For having lost his way, for having rushed, for having panicked.

The sudden sound of the flutter of wings startled him. Two ferals dropped from the sky on the rocks just above him, so close Tharkay could distinctly see the pattern of their scales. Cursing his bad luck, he pushed himself further against the rock, hoping his grey coat would be enough to hide him and did his best not to move. All he had to do was stay out of sight and not make a sound. They would move on quickly, he told himself, their chosen spot was far too exposed for anything else. He held his breath, and he waited.

But the two ferals did not seem overly concerned with their surroundings. They were hissing and whistling at each other, taking turns to pick at the remains of some unidentifiable animal. Tharkay watched in horrified fascination as they tore through the carcass effortlessly and then settled for the night. He relaxed slightly when they started snoring and for a while, debated whether to try and sneak away now, to get as much distance between him and the two probably still hungry beasts. In the end, he dared not move. It was already too dark, and it was unlikely that he would find another hiding place.

Between the assassin and the ferals, it was a long night, spent not quite awake, not quite asleep. Whenever he started to doze off, a noise would awaken him and leave him squinting against the darkness in search for any threatening movement. His only solace was that if he couldn’t see anything then neither could his assailant, and he was pretty certain the ferals were not a nocturnal breed. Around dawn, he had managed to doze off again when the sound of sliding rocks put him immediately on high alert again. This time, with the cover of the night lifting and the sky a few lighter hues of blue, he saw faintly in the distant the crouching shape of the assassin slowly making his way in his direction.

Tharkay scrambled to his feet. The man hadn’t spotted him yet, but would the instant he tried to walk away. If he stayed, his hiding spot would also be quickly discovered. This was no longer a problem he could evade. His shoulders were aching from his slouch of the night but the crisp morning air was bracing. A quick look told him the ferals were still there, and also apparently out of sight. Taking a deep breath, he found a stone and crouched under the rock cover, waiting for the man to get closer.

The moment he saw his shadow above him, Tharkay threw the stone as hard as he could, hitting the rock near the sleeping dragons. They startled awake with a loud shriek, jumping in the air with a flurry of wings and using the distraction, Tharkay lunged.

He knocked the blade from the man’s hands and tried to catch him in a headlock but was too slow. His adversary twisted and caught him by the shoulders. The fight quickly turned to messy grappling as they both tumbled to the ground, each shoving and pulling, trying to get the upper hand. Tharkay was taller and managed to straddle him but before he could secure his grip, he was completely taken unawares when he was suddenly struck on the head with something hard. He saw stars. The world spun. He was on his back, a hand finding only empty air as he tried to brace himself. A cold spark of fear jumped along his spine; they had reached the edge of the cliff.

The other man had a knee on his chest. He lifted his hand to strike him with the stone again. Instinctively, Tharkay bucked and seized him by the belt to throw him off balance, pushing him over the edge. He held his breath at the sudden shout of fear and heard the body drop followed by a distant thud and then complete silence.

He laid frozen on his back, out of breath and heart beating wildly. Slowly, he tried to inch himself away from the edge, not daring to turn and look down. The sky above him was spinning and there was something warm on his forehead. His hand came back slick with blood. Distantly, he realised falling asleep now was dangerous no matter how tempting and forced himself to move. He stood up with great difficulty, limbs shaky and heavy as steel, and barely managed two steps when he noticed them. The ferals were blocking his way and staring straight at him.

Tharkay wryly wondered whether he had escaped a stoning only to get mauled to death by a dragon. But the ferals made no move to attack him. They merely stood in his path, watching him swaying on his feet. Then, one of them started whistling sharply at him, moving back and forth as Tharkay watched uncomprehending. He kept pointing with his tail at another direction, sometimes jumping towards it before quickly backing away and still repeating that same pattern of sounds.

Tharkay forced himself to focus, turned and realised it was the path he had initially come from the day before. Ah. Carefully, he started backing away in that direction, still under the scrutiny of the dragons. Eventually, when he was at a distance, he dared to turn around and quickened his pace.

When he looked back, the ferals were gone. Tharkay was back on familiar paths within the hour, having apparently taken directions from a dragon. It shouldn’t be surprising really, that a race that man had dismissed as barbarian would prove to be otherwise. He slipped away quietly, feeling privy to a secret and oddly vindicated.

Xx

The second time he found himself amongst ferals was of his own volition.

Madden had asked his assistance in setting up a trade route for the British in exchange for a nice sum. Despite his own hostilities for the English, he agreed, feeling he owed him that much. Whilst it was too much credit to say the man had taken him in, he had given Tharkay a purpose at a time when he desperately needed it and for this, he had earned a certain amount of gratitude.

He was starting to deeply regret that decision. Until now, the venture had brought him nothing but profound annoyance and headaches. Mr. Atkin had not been happy with any of Tharkay’s plans, rejecting the all proposed routes that would avoid feral territories for being too long. The man was determined to barrel straight across.

“Kill of few of them and it will scare the rest of them off easily”, he claimed.

It didn’t matter how much Tharkay tried to tell him it was unnecessary, too dangerous and overly complicated. Much like his peers, the merchantman would not listen to anyone who didn’t make him feel like he was staring into a mirror. With his face and descent, Tharkay was immediately disqualified.

So here he was, saddled with the task of the clearing the way. But his first encounter with the ferals the mountains was still engraved in Tharkay’s mind and the idea of sneaking into the night to kill thinking, living beings did not sit well with him. Dragons were after all perfectly intelligent and reasonable (to a certain extent) beings and he was willing to bet ferals were too. Therefore he had made a few changes to the original plan which Mr. Atkin did not need to know about. If it worked, the man would have his straight route, if not, Tharkay would be dinner to a pack of ferals and no one would be the wiser.

His plan was to kill two birds with one stone. Or rather, to befriend two ferals with one goat. Already the first step proved to be a challenge because the animal, apparently sensing his imminent faith, struggled and bleated wildly as Tharkay tried to drag it up the small path. Eventually however, a local shepherd took pity and showed him how to use opium to make it docile. The whole time, his newly trained eagle, Ferah, circled lazily above him, drifting on outstretched wings, completely indifferent to his struggles.

She was the one to spot them, which she indicated by returning to his shoulder with a loud screech. They were a small group, a pair of adults and a dragonet. Small enough to share the goat and hopefully more willing to negotiate than a bigger pack would be. Tharkay didn’t wait to consider one last time whether this was a good idea and slowly approached them. He knew the moment they took notice of him. Three pairs of eyes fixated on him, slited pupils following his movements. It took all he had not to turn and run, but in any case, turning his back to them seemed like a worst idea in this moment than moving forward.

He stopped when the largest of the three got up and started spreading his wings and released the goat, still high on opium, letting it wander in their direction on its own. The dragons pounced the moment Tharkay was more than an arm’s length away from it and promptly carried it higher up. Within minutes the animal had been torn to shreds. On his shoulder, Ferah screeched loudly in alarm.

“Yes” agreed Tharkay, wryly

For the first week, he could merely watch the ferals devour his peace offerings. They wouldn’t let him approach, but weren’t treating him as a threat either which Tharkay counted as good news. He set up camp in a small nook, shielded from the weather and close enough so he could observe them. Not that they had the most fascinating routine: mostly, it consisted in taking turns going hunting and sleeping in the sun. Sometimes, when the hunt was particularly successful and they could each eat their fill, one of them would start an elaborate pantomime which looked to Tharkay like dancing whilst whistling loudly and cheerfully, the other two often joining in with shouts of their own. Storytelling, Tharkay realised, or acting of some sort. It was entertaining to watch, even to him. The thought of a dragon rendition of hamlet amused him particularly and it from these performances that he figured out that they had their own language. He managed to make out a pattern in their sounds and the difference between when they were communicating or just growling or laughing. It was an exhilarating discovery, one that made Tharkay’s efforts feel all the more worth it.

The dragonet was growing quickly, and was just as curious about him. Several times, Tharkay returned to his campsite to find his pack overturned or something missing and he could see the dragonet follow him at a distance whenever he went exploring in an attempt to map the area or try to spot other ferals. But other than that, he was too slow in his progress with them. The dragonet always ran off when he tried to approach him and the adults were just as uninclined to socialise, pointedly moving away from him whenever he tried climbing up to them. Tharkay was reasonably confident by now that he wasn’t in any danger of being mauled or otherwise harmed, but he was very much being snubbed. He was considering making a trip back to get another goat and risk losing them or attempt to be more forward with them when the choice was taken out of his hands.

He was hunting with Ferah, when he found the dragonet. It had wandered too close to a path frequently taken by mountaineers and completely entangled himself one of their traps. The hooks in the net were making it impossible for him to shake it off and the more he was struggling the more the rope was tightening around his back legs. Tharkay knew that those traps would not loosen, that the dragon would be stuck until one of the mountaineers found him. It was an easy decision. This whole adventure had already been stretching his survival instincts to the limit, so what was one more risk in the grand scheme of things.

He climbed down to help. He tried to get the small dragon to calm down, whistling the noises of acknowledgment the adults always made when addressing him, hoping it was a name or a greeting.

“Come on, I know you are clever, I am not going to hurt you”

But the dragonet would not stop struggling and Tharkay could not get close enough to work.

“Looks like we are doing this the hard way” he sighed.

He moved behind the dragonet and swiftly caught him by the scruff of his neck. He was almost immediately thrown off, but thankfully the dragonet was not big enough yet and Tharkay managed to secure his grip by pressing down with his own weight. Still trying to be soothing he brushed a hand along the scales, making low shushing noises before turning to the back legs. Working with one hand was too complicated, so he resorted to the use of a small blade to saw through the ropes, making sure to keep it out of sight. The skin around the leg was badly bruised but thankfully, not torn and there was no bleeding. Tharkay wasn’t a doctor, he doubted he would have been much help otherwise. Still, just in case he improvised a bandage with a torn piece of cloth before releasing his patient. The dragonet scrambled away immediately.

“You’re welcome” he called after him.

He woke up the next morning to the eerie sight of several gleaming sets of teeth looming over him. Ferah screeched in alarm, beating her wings against her tether as Tharkay jolted backwards, knocking his head against the rocks. It wasn’t a graceful awakening, the small space filled with chaos, but eventually he managed to sooth her ruffled feather and detangle himself from his sleeping bag. Only then did he fully realise what was happening. All three dragons were crowded at the entrance of his hide out. They couldn’t reach him, but Tharkay knew that if they had wanted him dead they probably would have figured out a way by now. It took all of his restraint not to cheer when they didn’t run off when he stepped out to them.

For the first time since he arrived, they seemed more curious than wary of him and spent the day following him around. Often, they made inquisitive noises at him which sometimes Tharkay ventured to answer but it was clear that neither party understood one another. Eventually, the one with the orange and grey patches flew off, having apparently lost patience, and Tharkay did not see him for the rest of the day. Still, that evening the dragonet curled up near the fire with him so Tharkay was happy to call the day a success.

The next day, there were two new dragons in the group, and an egg was placed in a small nest near his camping area. It was jealously guarded and Tharkay was not allowed to touch it, but contradictorily the dragons would insist on having him around it.

Tharkay made very rapid progress after that. He always knew himself to be talented with learning languages and the dragons were very enthusiastic to teach him, often pointing to a random object and naming it for him. His very first word of Durzagh was rock. He also quickly realised that there were several sounds that he simply could not repeat and would have to make do with whistling and making clicking noises with his tongue. They were always very amused by that, and would cheer him on whenever he ventured to try a few words. Still, every day they would insist he speak his own language to them which Tharkay believed to be their own attempt to learn the language. The truth turned out to be even stranger.

He wasn’t surprised when he came back from yet another exploration of the area to find a newly hatched dragonet yet again look through his things. The small, pale blue dragon had already gorged itself on the food the adults had left her and had no qualms in taking some of Tharkay’s. What surprised him was when the dragon greeted him in perfect Turkish.

“We learn in the shell, you know” She said “My name is Merve”.

Dragons it seemed were more ingenious than most humans since their first reflex had apparently been to acquire a translator once they’d taken an interest in Tharkay. Relieved by this turn of event, Tharkay sat down facing Merve.

“I’m Tharkay” he told her.

“Yes, I know. Your durzagh is terrible” she said reproachfully.

“Not surprising considering I don’t speak… durzagh”

Merve clicked her tongue critically, and turned back to exploring her surroundings. Tharkay could have told her then and there about Mr. Atkin and his plan to free the area of ferals, but he found himself unwilling. Finally, there was something interesting to be gained from this venture. He felt he deserved to satisfy his own curiosity and he wasn’t expected back for some time yet, so it would be a shame to pass up the opportunity.

“You could teach me, if my level is so unsatisfactory”, he suggested.

“You are out of the shell, it is too late now” replied Merve, dismissively.

“On the contrary. Humans do all of their learning outside of the shell”.

That seemed to interest her and she turned back to him, titling her head to look at him more closely.

“Fascinating. Yes, I would like to see that.” She rumbled “yes, yes, alright, but first you have to feed me. I am hungry again”.

Merve was prone to sarcastic quips and interrupting her own lessons to demand more food. But she was also a very efficient teacher, ruthlessly correcting Tharkay’s pronunciation when he made a mistake and only rewarding him with a stern “good enough” when she was satisfied in a manner that reminded Tharkay of his own tutors as a child. The other ferals however were a lot more liberal with their praises and quickly Tharkay was invited to one of their storytelling sessions.

The story of a lost and helpless human drifting in the mountains and rescued by a group of courageous dragons gave him a lot of mixed feelings. He took comfort in the fact that he was the only human who could understand it and took pride in that he actually could understand it at all.

Eventually he managed to piece together enough words to tell them about why he was here. He did not need to elaborate on the danger to them, the ferals already familiar with the fatal results of human intrusions. They talked amongst themselves, speaking too quickly for Tharkay to follow, and eventually agreed to stay out of the way and to pass along the message.

Just like that, Tharkay’s job was done and his curiosity more than satisfied. There were no more reasons for him to stay and already he itched to move on so he packed his bags and went back to report to Mr. Atkin that the way was clear.

“The ferals had proper warning then?”

“No.” admitted Tharkay, “But they have agreed to clear the way and let us pass unmolested”.

“You cannot negotiate with beasts, Mr. Tharkay!” admonished Mr. Atkin with contempt, as if Tharkay had not just spent weeks doing just so “You were given a job to do and if you cannot bring yourself to do it I will hire someone else”.

Tharkay swallowed the retorts on the tip of his tongue, trying to keep his face carefully blank. He wanted to shout at Atkin, tell him that you couldn’t just walk through another creature’s home and life and push them out because they were inconvenient. That perhaps he should do his own dirty work for once.

“As you wish” he said instead, tone clipped.

Anger never worked. Somehow they would always take it and twist it and make him seem like the uncivilised, barbaric one. Instead, Tharkay opted for a more subtle form to express his outrage. He snuck out of the residence just as the first lights of dawn started licking at the pale white stones of the garden and arrived at the Pamir Mountains a day before the expedition was due. He had no trouble finding Merve and the ferals again since they made no effort to hide once they recognised him.

“Have you considered a toll?” he asked.

It took a few hours to explain the concept to them and not because they did not understand but because they had several questions about the background economic theory. Tharkay quickly found himself out of his depth and had to admit defeat when the subject of statistics was broached. He knew, of course, that the ferals would not be able to do much. They would have to be careful and strike the right balance so humans didn’t find it necessary to hunt them down. But they did promise to look into Atkin and imagining the look on the man’s face when a whole pack of ferals showed up to demand payment gave Tharkay a vicious sense of satisfaction and made it all worth it.

He bid them goodbye the next morning, already looking forward to being on the road again now that the whole business was over. He didn’t have the faintest idea when or if his knowledge of Durzagh would ever be useful again, but the feeling of being privy to some secret made him feel oddly warm.

XX

For the most part, he never really got to use his Durzagh again. Sometimes, when his travels led him to cross the Pamir Mountains again, he would greet the more social ferals. Most of the time he only used it when practicing quietly with himself when he was alone and bored, or needed to keep his mind from the cold, pain or hunger. He became fluent quite quickly.

Then one day, he was given one letter to deliver and within the span of a few weeks Durzagh became as commonly used as Turkish and English.

How he came to be teaching a nosy celestial and translating for his handsome but oh so irritating captain, Tharkay didn’t know. How said captain came to become somewhat of a friend, he knew even less. If he were religious, Tharkay would have suspected it to be divine retribution of some kind. As it was, he was halfway up the mountains when he was hit with the uncomfortable realisation that he had grown fond of Temeraire and Laurence and that he had no other reason to be going back to meet with Arkady and his gang.

But he couldn’t claim to have snuck into a harem and stolen three dragon eggs with just anyone after all. And he hadn’t liked the look of the Prussian camp, and their overconfidence in their own success. The whole situation made him uncomfortable and he disliked, hated even, leaving Laurence and Temeraire to deal with it all on their own. It was a shame to leave good people at the hands of incompetent ones and this was one way he could help. The only reason he hadn’t told Laurence about his plan was that there was no guarantee of success. No use in getting his hopes up.

No, Tharkay was not infatuated with the first man to have treated him with some decency, he had higher standards than that.

The irony of recruiting foreign dragons to fight for the British was not lost on him. If it hadn’t been for Temeraire’s revolutionary leanings he never would have considered the idea seriously. But the ferals themselves had expressed an interest in exploring beyond the mountain, and Tharkay trusted they would not come if they didn’t think the benefits outweighed the risk. Dragons had an instinct for this sort of thing.

He climbed back to the caves where he and the aviators had been allowed to camp and was greeted enthusiastically by Arkady and the group that had traveled with them for a while.

“I’ve come with an offer” he told them, “are you still interested in exploring beyond the mountains?”

They insisted on having the whole story and Tharkay indulged them hoping to tempt them into the adventure. They listened with a lot of interest; asking more details about the Turkish court, waiting with baited breaths when he related Lien’s threats, cheering at his and Laurence’s escape through the sewers and at the subsequent escape from the Sultan’s harem.

“They could use your help” he concluded, after describing the situation of the Prussian camp.

“It sounds to me like they have a great many dragons already” said Arkady, thoughtful, “why do you need us for?”

There was a murmur of approval amongst his ranks, many dragons nodding along their encounter with the Turkish aviators obviously still fresh in their mind.

“I don’t think Temeraire can do this without you” Tharkay confided.

He will apologise to the celestial later if he has to, but in this particular instance the ends justified the means. And there was some truth to it, even Temeraire could not hold off the entirety of Napoleon’s Grande Armée by himself.

“Think about it, you would be rescuing him and he would be very grateful”.

Arkady was immediately sold to the idea. He turned towards his lieutenants and they started discussing rapidly amongst themselves, occasionally throwing a sideward glance at Tharkay who leaned back and tried to wait patiently. He could see that not everyone was fully willing yet, and with every passing minute he got more worried they would be too late, so he threw in his last bargaining chip.

“You would get paid. A cow a day is the going rate in the British ranks, or so I hear”

Hook, line and sinker, Tharkay knew he had them when their ears perked up in interest and Arkady’s tail started to beat excitedly against the ground. He made an enthusiastic bounce then seemed to recall himself and sat back down, growling sharply to demand the silence of his peers.

“Has Temeraire sent you?” he asked, a fake indifference lacing his tone.

It was a blatant attempt to gain further flattery, which wasn’t unexpected for pirate dragons, but Tharkay was no longer willing to play along.

“No” he said, “It was my own decision”.

This seemed to perplex them.

“Why? What have you to gain from this?”

What indeed. Tharkay had no interest in the war and liked even less to get involved in political matters. You got all of the blame if something went wrong, but none of the credit if it all worked out. Heavens, he wasn’t even getting paid for this.

“I am merely helping out a friend” he admitted.

He was completely taken aback by the sudden burst of excitement and chatter that filled up the cave, and the dragons all suddenly crowded closer all asking questions at the same time.

“Who? Was it one of the humans that were there earlier?”

They were being very nosy, even for dragons, and Tharkay wasn’t sure where the interest was coming from.

“Yes” he answered warily “Captain Laurence of Temeraire”.

“Temeraire’s captain?” Arkady gasped “Tell us, how did you get his approval? What treasure did you offer?”

“What?”

He was eventually made to understand that the sounds he used translated to mate and not friend as he meant to do. Tharkay was only grateful that this time there was no crowd of aviators or Temeraire to witness his mistake. God knows how Laurence would have reacted to the nomination. Tharkay rather hoped he would have been more embarrassed than offended. But this was beside the point. Backtracking was nearly impossible, he managed to make the ferals understand that no, Laurence was not his mate but they categorically refused to accept he was only a friend. Because apparently, Tharkay’s efforts were a sign of interest.

“Will you help or not?” he asked again, finally, hoping to steer the conversation away from Laurence and towards his actual reason for being here. Namely, the rescue a group of English aviators.

“We shall go rescue Temeraire” confirmed Arkady, “and help you court your mate”.

Travelling with the ferals made crossing the mountains with Temeraire feel like a luxury trip. By the time they arrived, Tharkay had heard a dozen different versions of his valiant recue of his lover, ranging from leading a valiant charge into battle to ripping out the still-beating heart of Frenchmen standing in his way. Several times he was told that yes twenty dragons is an impressive gift and that they were pleased to contribute to his courting scheme. Tharkay stopped being mortified around the sixth story and resigned himself to this insanity.

The grateful relief on Laurence’s face, when they finally reached them in extremis, was a beautiful sight however and made it all worth it. He tried to ignore how his heart skipped a beat at how happy Laurence seemed to see him.

The last time he remembered feeling this way, he had brought Sarah Madden a small pendant carved in cedar from Lebanon. It had been a small, selfless gesture, the kind Tharkay did not just spare to anyone and she had smiled, delighted at the ridiculous gift.

But this was very different. This was a job, and in the long run, there was a lot to gain from having the English in your debt. He shoved the memory and the feelings aside, and decided he could do with some rest now.

XX

Tharkay almost laughed out loud when Admiral Roland offered him the rank of captain. The refusal had been on the tip of his tongue, if the British could not manage to work with the ferals without him then it was no fault of his and he was already a lot more involved than he meant to be. But the Admiral was a very perceptive woman, and before he could turn down her offer she interjected

“I need someone to bring Laurence back, but it has to be an officer. I was under the impression you would be interested”.

She looked him straight in the eyes as she said it, cocking an eyebrow at him as if silently demanding they skip the banter because she knew herself to be right. Tharkay had to admit it was refreshing straightforwardness for an English admiral and he started to understand the regard Laurence had for her. The man had a skewed sense of duty but his choice of friends balanced it out nicely. His country had put him in prison, but here at least was someone else interested in saving his neck, so Tharkay pretended to think about it, holding her gaze with equal frankness.

“Temporarily, of course” he said.

“Of course” She agreed easily.

He was given his golden bars with no ceremony and allowed free choice of the ferals. Gherni volunteered to take him, a surprising gesture considering she was the most anxious of the bunch. Still, perhaps it was for the best, better not to have a dragon who liked to charge into battle for a stealth mission.

“I heard you were going to rescue your mate” she attempted to whisper conspiratorially, “personally I am surprised you even let them take him away”.

The remark carried over to the other side of the camp, and for once, Tharkay was thankful so few aviators had bothered learning Durzagh.

“He is not my mate” said Tharkay, for the thousandth time, “merely my particular friend”.

“Oh yes” agreed Gherni, “Iskierka did say we had to call it that. Human customs can be so strange”.

The mention of the Kazilik gave Tharkay a small amount of comfort: he at least did not have to deal with the ferals constantly, and he wondered how Granby dealt with a meddling dragon attached to the hip. Still, if the other man could do it, so could he, and for now he found it best simply not to engage. Gherni however, took his silence as an invitation and she continued.

“I think your gifts have been very appropriate, it’s a pity he doesn’t seem to have noticed. Perhaps you ought to go for a more direct approach”.

“I will not. For the last time, I do not want Laurence as a mate”.

“If that were so, you would not be doing so much for him! No I think you are only being shy with your affections.”

Dragons, he had decided long ago, were the only ones who could rival William Laurence in stubbornness. If Tharkay were interested in starting a liaison of any kind, then the direct approach would indeed be the only way to get Laurence to notice. Even then, he didn’t think Laurence were the kind whose affections could be bought, and he was unlikely to have feelings of any kind towards Tharkay. The thought inexplicably made him very weary.

“It is not that simple for humans” he said, wryly, and decided to put an end to the conversation, “Now enough of that, I think we can take advantage of the cover of the night, don’t you?”

Tharkay did not think of himself as shy. He’d known for a long time that he was also attracted to men, and had indulged when he could before he met Sarah Madden. And yes, perhaps Laurence was the closest he came to consider himself interested since her, but it wasn’t love. And he was not the sole motivation for his actions, unlike what the ferals insisted on believing. He liked Laurence, yes, and believed the man deserved to be treated better by this country. This was a matter of justice, not personal feelings. It’s why he was crossing a war torn countryside in secret instead of leaving for more peaceful pastures, it’s why he bothered to go through the proper channels and argue with incompetent bureaucrats for several hours.

It didn’t explain the cold numbness that suddenly befell him when the port admiral admitted to have no idea where their prisoner was. Gripped by a burst of anxiety he snapped at him.

“What do you mean by this?”

He managed to learn that Laurence had been under the supervision of one Mr. Meed and set off, tearing through the burning city with little regard for his own safety. He gave the young man quite a fright when he managed to find him, but there wasn’t any time to spare to be tactful.

It was ridiculous, to have his own manners so affected by a single person. He knew better, knew that personal feelings could make a mess of things and yet here he was climbing the stairs two by two as the intense heat made uncomfortable beads of sweat roll down his back. There were no guards outside the door and despite the danger, his initial reaction when he found Laurence still inside was relief. The second was worry, mixed with anger. What was he still doing here?

There was a moment, where Laurence seemed confused by the sight of him and Tharkay’s anger melted to sorrow. He thought of pointing out the open door and the absent guards, but feared he would not like the answer.

“Will you come with me?” He called instead “I believe there is still the danger of fire”

He was eternally grateful when Laurence followed but the despair that clung to him shook him to his core. So he talked, told him about how he came to find him, and this also was unlike him. Laurence responded with a few platitudes, but still seemed diminished and oddly hesitant with Tharkay.

“There you are!” cried Gherni, relieved to see them. “Ah but what’s wrong with him? Is he sick?”

“We have to go, now” replied Tharkay.

Only when he had Laurence on Gherni and they were on their way did he stop talking and allowed himself to collect his thoughts. He had expected to find Laurence torn but not like this.

“I might never have found you, of course” he offered, later.

Laurence refused, of course and this was more like him, but it also infuriated him. Tharkay wanted to keep pushing, wanted to shake Laurence until the man understood that this country did not deserve his loyalties or his sacrifice. He wanted to make him understand that a country was a petty thing to blindly love and follow. But he bit his tongue. It would be taking advantage, he thinks. And it felt slightly hypocritical. A few months ago, Tharkay could not claim to have any such loyalties, but now it was getting harder to think of himself as completely unmoored to anything or anyone but himself.

“You can’t just leave him like this” hissed Gherni, when Laurence was delivered to the capable hands of Admiral Roland. “You might lose him forever if you do nothing”

And damn her, she was right. Tharkay may have little ambition when it came to courting the most stubborn man on this earth, but he also found himself unwilling to leave him. For once, there was someone he liked and could safely call a friend and he would not turn his back now. He would at least try to shake Laurence out of this mood he had backed himself into, even if he had to knock him over the head if he had to. He was free to go as he pleased after all, bound by nothing but his own conscience, and his conscience was perfectly comfortable with following one William Laurence to the ends of earth.

XX

His voyage to New South Wales was surprisingly busy. Between trying to keep Laurence distracted, help Granby on Iskierka-damage control and his dinners with Captain Riley, the days went by quickly. His nights would always begin on the dragon deck with Laurence and Temeraire, the celestial insisting they practice their Durzagh together in order for Arkady’s egg to be able to speak his native language. Most of the time, their exchange had the added benefit of helping Laurence get to sleep, the man nodding off in the curve of Temeraire’s foreleg to the sound of their voices.

This particular evening, Temeraire was telling the egg a story told to him by Arkady about a valiant human whom, having been taken in by the Pamir ferals and taught the subtle art of dragons customs had gathered enough courage and aided by hundreds of valiant dragons had gone to rescue his love trapped in a distant castle. Tharkay would throttle Arkady next time they met and it was taking all he had not to look overly agitated. Temeraire may not have connected the dots but any sign of outward agitation would surely add his to the ever growing collection of dragons meddling in his affairs and this should be avoided at all costs. Sat next to him, Laurence was frowning in confusion; Temeraire was speaking slowly enough, but it still took all of his concentration to understand the general idea of what was being said.

“I always wonder how Arkady manages to come up with these complex scenarios” he said, mystified

Somehow subconsciously aware of Tharkay’s own mood, he poured him some more wine which Tharkay immediately drank to fortify his nerves against the direction of this conversation.

“Arkady swore it was a true story” said Temeraire, “but he wouldn’t tell me the man’s name or the lover’s name or the location of the castle. It’s all very suspicious”.

“Perhaps the names were too complicated to remember.” Tharkay latched onto the change of subject like a drowning man to a rope “And irrelevant for the purpose of the story”.

“Yes, I suppose it is true. Humans tend to have so many names… which is odd if you ask me, why do you need so many? Dragons only need one!”

“Each part of the name is meant to signify something different, my dear. To be more easily identifiable, to know the person’s rank, their family…”

“Well, yes, but why? What is the point of such a rule?”

“Names have power.” Interjected Tharkay “Many cultures believe that having several names would protect one’s soul from evil spirits”.

“Ah! I like this, Laurence, it is very reassuring to know that you are protected from evil spirits”.

“Of course, my dear”

The answer was unmistakably fond but the note of exasperation made Tharkay grin, knowing full well Laurence disliked when Temeraire found another reason to fret over his safety. Given his behavior the past few months however, he fully deserved what he got.

Tharkay indulged Temeraire with a few more stories of his travels, happy to have someone willing to listen, throwing occasional glances at Laurence who stayed quiet the whole time. His form was faintly outlined against Temeraire’s bulk by the light of the lanterns on deck but Tharkay could clearly see that he was still wide awake, even after the dragon himself drifted off. He seemed to be daydreaming, face stern and looking at the waves in the distance.

Tharkay frowned and finished off his wine, considering the best ways to goad Laurence into getting some sleep himself. He was surprised when Laurence shifted closer so their knees were lightly brushing together and broke the silence.

“You never told me your name” he said softly.

Laurence blinked then, apparently startled to have spoken out loud and his cheeks coloured slightly.

“Not that,” he amended immediately, ducking his head “You have to tell me, I do not want to assume I have earned…”

“My name is Tenzing” Tharkay interrupted with a teasing smile.

Laurence’s habit to spiral had come to light recently, now that we was no longer so tight lipped with his thoughts. It was endearing and terribly amusing, Tharkay enjoyed letting him tie himself into knots only to watch him untie them again. But he would not let Laurence think of himself as undeserving of Tharkay’s affections. He looked up from his glass to look Laurence straight in the eyes, hoping to convey the full depth of his meaning. Laurence held his gaze, searching, and suddenly his features softened. For a moment, his slouch from the past few months seemed to straighten in pride.

“Tenzing” he repeated softly, as if tasting the word on his tongue.

Tharkay swallowed against the tightness in his throat. It was disquieting to realise he had not seen Laurence so at ease with himself since the day he had been sent to get more ferals. The despair, at least, was completely gone now and Tharkay’s relief was not unmixed from the sensation of pleasure, knowing he could still manage to coax Laurence out of his own head.

“Tenzing” said Laurence, “please call me Will”.

It almost spilled out of Tharkay right then and there. Will was close enough he could already feel the warmth of his body and it would be a simple matter of leaning forward to brush their fingers together. But no, not yet, maybe not ever. This was enough.

Instead he managed a genuine smile at Laurence and a nod in acknowledgement. And that night he stayed, leaning back against Temeraire warm bulk to watch the stars and listen to the waves.

Something between them eased after that night, and Laurence more rapidly started becoming himself again. He finally started seeking out his and Granby’s company on his own and went flying with Temeraire more often. It was a strangely beautiful thing, watching someone build themselves back up again. Even more satisfying were the quiet moments they got to spend just the two of them. The late nights sharing diner or a bottle of port, getting into arguments with Temeraire, talking about traveling. In those moments he allowed himself to be selfish and revel in the joy of spending time with a close friend.

It pained him, having to leave again, but it was with an easy heart. He was pleased they managed to grab one last dinner together and he indulged in a fit of sentimentality and gave Laurence an address, knowing the man liked to write. He hoped it was enough to make Laurence understand that he was not being left behind.

XX

“It all worked out in the end” preened Arkady.

Tharkay’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance, but he stayed focus on his ruined hands, still trying to gently flex his fingers, jaw gritted tight against the pain. For the past few minutes the feral had been heaving heavier and heavier sighs and slowly inching closer to him.

“Pray explain how you consider this to have worked out” he drawled, finally giving in, mostly to distract himself from a building anxiety.

They were a pitiful sight the both of them. Arkady’s wings wrapped just as tightly as Tharkay’s hands, both having lost the use of a valuable limb and stuck enable to do anything but watch as the others prepared to travel to Russia. Tharkay had wandered off to escape both Laurence’s and Temeraire’s incessant worrying. The former hardly had the higher moral ground, what with his head practically sliced opened, and the latter was being positively smothering.

“Well. We are out, and you got rescued by the one who holds your heart!” said Arkady “surely this is a response to your courting, you don’t just save the life of anyone after all. It took you quite some time to get his attention, I am sure you would have managed it sooner had you only listened to our suggestions…”

“Or“, cut in Tharkay “He was merely doing his duty, as he is prone to do, and we were lucky enough to be a collateral rescue. You see, some people don’t run off thinking only of themselves when facing danger.”

Arkady at least had the decency to look apologetic at that. He flattened himself on the ground, pouting silently, but the red patched feral was not one to stay deterred for long.

“Temeraire said he had been courting you” he huffed.

“Excuse me?” Tharkay twisted around so fast his ribs twinged in protest.

“Yes, he left his memories in your keep didn’t he? Apparently, Immortalis told Temeraire who told Iskierka who then told me that humans consider their memories to be a very precious treasure”.

That he had helped restore Laurence’s memory was indeed a source of pride for Tharkay, but he most certainly did not attribute it to anything as romantic as an expression of emotions. He was not so lovelorn. Likely, he had simply been the final drop required to trigger a recovery. What was more shocking to him however, was the news that he was apparently the subject of gossip for every dragon in Temeraire’s formation. Nothing was more terrifying to him than the prospect of dragons discussing his romantic endeavors, especially given their propensity to share everything with their captains. Not even the fragile confidentiality of Durzagh would be enough now.

“You should make it official.” Continued Arkady, “Go claim your mate! I hear the rocks by the spring are a great spot for…”

“I will do no such thing.” hissed Tharkay “By god, even if I am interested, I highly doubt the feeling is returned and the last thing I want is to scare him off!”

“Tenzing?”

Tharkay froze, all his annoyance at Arkady evaporating to be replaced by a sinking feeling of dread. The feral however seemed incredibly smug which meant he probably had noticed the other’s presence before. Tharkay would make him pay later, he promised himself, for now he braced himself and turned to face the newcomer and yes, of course, it was Laurence.

“Ah, Will. What can I do for you?”

Behind him Arkady was chuckling to himself and only because it would be childish and probably useless did he not turn around to shush him in irritation. Tharkay wondered how much Laurence had heard and whether there was any possible way he could come up with a convincing evasion. They had been speaking in Durzagh, it should be easy enough to pass it off as a misunderstanding. But Laurence said nothing as he moved towards them, a slight frown on his face and for a moment Tharkay’s panic was replaced with a more clinical worry that something else had gone wrong. For once, that would be a blessing.

“Laurence? Is something the matter?”

It had the effect of pulling the other man from whatever contemplative mood he had fallen into, and he cleared his throat, now completely focused on Tharkay.

“Apologies. No, no, nothing is wrong, I was merely taking advantage of a break in Temeraire’s vigilance. But Tenzing…”

He stepped closer into Tharkay’s space.

“I know I am considered rather slow in these matters, but even I fail to see how I could have missed something I have so ardently desired. Tenzing, they are returned. Your feelings, that is”.

He completed this declaration by gently taking hold of Tharkay’s hands in his and kissing it lightly on the knuckles. Tharkay blinked, mind going completely blank. Anything he might have said in reply disappeared, dropping from his mind like flies. Distantly, he heard Arkady scramble away behind him, cheering loudly, and noticed Laurence looking at him with increasing worry at his silence.

“Tenzing, pray say something”

He was frowning again, and his shoulders were tensing up in the manner that had so intrigued Tharkay in the first few months of their acquaintance, back when he was too irritated to acknowledge the interest. He was beautiful and the only reason Tharkay knew he wasn’t dreaming was the lopsided bandage making a mess of his usually neat queue. Not even Tharkay could dream of the type of trouble Laurence got himself into. This thought gave him his wits back and he managed a casual smirk.

“I think that knock on you head is still affecting you more gravely than we thought.”

To his joy, Laurence sighed, which was the closest he ever came to rolling his eyes, and relaxed. Tharkay wrapped an arm around his waist and noticed with astonishment that he was smiling, a slight quirk of the lips that he had never seen directed at anyone but Temeraire.

“I am not worried.” Said Laurence, lightly “You seem to make a habit of putting my head back on right”.

The look on Laurence’s face was one of utter sincerity, his features serious but his eyes soft. Tharkay never believed it possible, but if he had, this was exactly how he would have imagined a confession to go. Laurence may sometimes spend days mulling something over, but he never acted on a decision with anything less than straightforward determination. It made Tharkay warm all over and because now apparently he could, he slid a hand behind the nape of his neck and brought their mouths together.

“You understood that?” he asked, when they separated again.

They were standing against one another, foreheads touching, and Tharkay was delighted to notice Laurence’s blush trailed all the way down to his neck as the man smiled wryly at him.

“For the most part… I was hoping I was not mistaken in my translation”.

Tharkay grinned, reminded of his own blunder with the language. Perhaps he did owe the ferals a cow. But later. He pulled Laurence further into the safety of the shade and they kissed again, softly. Faintly, beyond the trees, dragons were laughing.

**Author's Note:**

> I love these nerds so much I have no words. 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr: on my [ writing blog ](http://roboticnebulawrites.tumblr.com/) or on my [main blog](http://roboticnebula.tumblr.com/) !


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